


The Power of Love

by RoseAmaranth



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Car Accident, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mizler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24887932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseAmaranth/pseuds/RoseAmaranth
Summary: After a horrible car accident leaves him burned and scarred – changing the way he looks permanently – Dolph battles insecurity in his appearance and relationship.
Relationships: The Miz/Dolph Ziggler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The Power of Love

The last thing Dolph could remember seeing was a blinking red light and the blue glow of his radio. Opening his eyes, bright white cut across his vision and made his head ache. His body felt stiff, like his muscles turned into wooden planks, and his skin was on fire. When he turned his head to escape the blinding white lights, a dull pain flared up in his neck and he let out a low groan. What, did he fall asleep on a couch or something? He's never been this stiff before.

Yoga kept him limber, and he stretched regularly. But nothing could keep a bad sleeping position from screwing with your body.

“Post-comatose amnesia is common with head trauma cases, so we'll test him thoroughly once he's awake and the medication has had time to leave his system.” Hmm. That person didn't sound familiar at all, but Mike liked to watch weird TV shows during the night and then would often forget to turn it off before going to bed. It wasn't common for him to watch medical dramas, but he also didn't particularly mind them. 

“It goes away, right?” His thoughts screeched to a halt. _That_ voice he recognized. It was John, which did make sense. John being at their house wasn't a strange occurrence, but he seemed to be speaking _to_ that voice. Maybe he was drunk? Or...

“The severity of each case varies. Some people have no complications and can remember the date and loved ones perfectly; others regress back years prior in their memories. But in ninety-nine percent of cases, they recover their memories fully in time. Once we assess him, we'll have more to go on.” Dolph opened his eyes again and located the voices to his left, standing near the foot of the bed. John looked like his normal self – which most of the time was like an actor straight out of an interview for his movie – but he had no clue who the other guy was. 

He did, however, immediately recognize the long white coat he was wearing. A doctor of some sort.

“Talking about someone while they are in the same room is rude,” was what he _tried_ to say. What actually came out was a whisper of what his voice normally was, croaking and breaking enough to gain their attention. Finally. He could get some answers.

“Hey, it's okay. Don't talk. The doc here says it's better to rest yourself as much as possible.” Why was he being seen by a doctor at all? Why was John looking at him like that- like he might shatter into pieces any second? Why did his head suddenly feel like someone was drilling holes into his skull over and over?

Said doctor rushed over and flashed a bright light in his eye, blinding him and making him jerk back with another groan, making a soft noise as he clicked off the light.

“I'll get the nurse.”

For the next three hours, he was carted around and shoved into machines that made all kinds of irritating noises. Injected with things that made him feel like he was peeing himself (a very uncomfortable and unfortunate sensation, by the way). Poked and prodded until he was back in his hospital bed, exhausted and eager to find out why the hell everyone was making a big deal over him. 

John greeted him as he pushed into the room, though no one else followed after. It couldn't be that serious if Mike wasn't there. If anything truly terrible happened to him, he knew Mike would be the first one at his side, and there would be no getting him to leave. Hell would break loose and he would fight until everyone just backed away and gave him what he wanted.

He's seen him in action before.

“So, what do you remember?” Dinner was served to them by a lovely lady with a blonde bob, though it was tasteless hospital food he was having to eat. And only a quarter of how much he could actually eat in one meal. Picking at his rice, he tried to think back to the last thing he could recall before the lights went out and he woke up in the hospital.

“Um, taillights in front of me. The radio. Driving back from the business meeting they made me go to on a _Sunday._ ” John nodded along, even laughing a little. See? Just a bunch of fuss over nothing. Like when he was eight and broke his leg falling out of a tree. His mom was frantic, but he was fine.

“Right. Well, you got into a car accident on your way back from that meeting. Which is why you're here. Some drunk driver t-boned you and totaled your car. Like, completely destroyed.” That made sense, but clearly it wasn't worse than him now having to buy a new car.

“Oh. Wow. Okay. That's...” He let that sink in for a minute, smashing the peas with his spoon. “Was anyone...killed?”

“No. You were the only one seriously hurt, actually. A miracle.” Well, then it really wasn't that bad. If his injuries – a possible concussion and some scrapes – were the worst of it, then it couldn't have been as serious as it sounded. Except, John was watching him closely, making him a little nervous.

“Someone had a broken arm I heard. I think someone else got stitches. The driver hit the wheel pretty hard, so he's staying a few rooms over for observation.” He furrowed his brows and chewed on the dry chicken that was barely seasoned.

“Those sound worse than me hitting my head a little, John. Geeze.” The doctor joined them, wrinkling his nose at the food he was half-heartedly picking at.

“Good evening, Mister Ziggler. How are we holding up?” He checked Dolph's eyes again, then his heart and chest. Glanced at monitors and hummed to himself.

“I've been better. But not too bad considering I've just found out I was in a car accident. And that my gorgeous car is ruined.” The doctor nodded, turning to John. 

“Any other lapses in his memory that you can see? The nurse will be here in a moment and we'll do a memory test of our own, but you're his friend. I figure you would know if something was off.” He's heard of amnesia happening when people hit their heads – he's seen enough medical shows with Mike to know that – so he quickly ran through the information about himself. Checking for anything he wasn't sure about.

He was Dolph Ziggler. Born July, 27th. He was just shy of six feet in height, which his long-time boyfriend lorded over him all the time since he was an inch _over_ six feet. They lived in a house just outside the city and had two dogs. John was more Mike's friend than Dolph's, but they all got along well. He had two brothers, both younger. It was 2020. March. He couldn't be sure the day, though. Everything came to him easily, so he was satisfied he would pass this test no problem.

“I only just told him about the accident. He remembered where he was coming from at the time, though.” The doctor nodded, welcoming the nurse when she arrived. And then another, this one male, behind her.

“Okay, let's begin. Jake, you can start.” The list of questions was basic: who was their president, what year was it, what was his full name (that always got funny looks), what state did he live in, who were his parents. He passed with flying colors, much to the apparent relief of everyone in the room. John still seemed jumpy, though, but he would question him later.

“Okay, what is the date?” That's where he was lost.

“Um, I'm pretty sure it's March. I was driving home on Monday evening, so maybe March 15th?” A beat of silence, notes being taken, and then the doctor ushered the nurses out.

“You were in a coma for twenty-three days, Mister Ziggler. There was severe trauma to your spinal column, legs, and chest. Three minorly fractured ribs, a punctured lung, and two badly broken ribs. Also, you have sustained third-degree burns along your right arm, the right side of your face, and torso. Front and back. Second-degree burns on your legs, buttocks, and neck. We had to operate to release fluid in your scull. It is incredible that the only thing you don't remember is the accident itself. You are a very lucky man to be alive right now.” Wait a minute. He heard John ask for them to be alone, and soon Dolph was staring down at the blanket. John reached out and took his hand, which he now realized was indeed horrifically burned. The skin there raw and discolored.

Claws gripped his throat, and he tried to swallow around the fear he could feel building up.

“John...” A thumb rubbed the back of his hand, trying to offer him comfort. Except he couldn't feel it.

“It's going to be okay. Once your broken stuff heals they're letting you out and you can rest in your own bed. Eat better food. Maybe in another week; hopefully less.” In his growing panic, he remembered there was a third person who should be here. The space he normally occupied (that being, his side) cold and empty.

“Why is Mike not here?” John sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“He tried numerous times to get here and see you. To be here when you woke up, but work wouldn't let him off for a couple days and the hospital bars anyone from coming in past a certain time. He's doing...he's okay, but he really needs to see you. I told him you've woken up and he's fighting harder to get here. Threatening to quit his job and everything.” Glancing at his hand, he suddenly recalled the doctor listing _multiple_ burns to his body. And if his arm looked like...

He stumbled out of the bed, John hurrying after him, and stared at the monster in the mirror replacing his reflection. The skin of its face was marred and disfigured horrible, splotches in some places but most of it nearly purple in color. It was incredible the thing could even see, but by some miracle (or curse?) the damage around the eyes wasn't as bad. Blonde hair was tangled in a matted mane, chunks missing in places where burns now sat.

Shaking, he leaned against the sink, staring into blue eyes - the only thing about this....creature...that resembled himself – and started to cry. Hard.

John stood with him, rubbing his back gently. Not speaking. Waiting. Once the sobs passed, he touched the skin of his right arm, shivering at the leather-like texture and swallowing another sob.

“John...I look _horrible._ ” His voice was soft, tears blurring his vision as he watched his unmarred hand touch the destroyed skin of his right. John's hands froze, and he pulled back to look him in the eye.

“But you're alive, Dolph. Mike and I, we were so afraid you were going to die. Mike cried for hours and hours after the hospital called. He didn't eat and barely slept. Even the dogs miss you, according to your mom.” Maybe so. Maybe he was lucky to be alive – blessed to live out his life – but how much of a life could it be looking like that? Who could look at him, let alone like him?

Mike...

“John, you can't let him see me. I can't...you have to keep him away.” He could feel the panic coming, crushing him until he was gasping for air. It was finally hitting him that he was going to lose everything – everyone – because of this stupid accident. More than his precious car. More than a few weeks where he was in a coma.

Mike would never want to marry him or be with him intimately ever again. And when he lost Mike, who else would want to touch him?

“Stop that. Dolph, listen to me.” He pushed away, nearly falling on the ground as he scrambled away. It was too late to keep John from seeing, but he could spare Mike. Could spare himself having to see the disgust and shock Mike would try to hide from him. The eventual rejection. 

It was a blessing of sorts that it was John at his side and not Mike.

He got into the bed slowly, running his hands over his hair. His face. Lifted his gown and ran fingers along the mutilated flesh.

“Don't make a mistake, man. Please.” The only mistake would be allowing Mike to come here. To let him see Dolph ever again. His plan was now to have John take him to his parents' place in another state once they released him. Far away from his gorgeous home and beautiful city.

“You don't understand, John. This isn't something that will turn into a cute little scar. This...this is _ugly;_ a monster.” John shook his head and came to stand next to him, disappointment clear in his eyes. Hurt on his face. But Dolph wasn't going to budge. “My looks, John. They're gone. Burned away.”

The change from sad to anger was immediate, and it wasn't often John wore this expression.

“And, what, you think Mike's shallow enough to take a look at someone he loves – to look at you – and run away? Is that what you think of the man you've been with for years?” No, he didn't think that. Mike wasn't shallow at all, but anyone would be turned off by what he looked like now. A patchwork quilt with ugly scars and patches of missing hair that would never be filled. 

And he just couldn't face it coming from someone he loved so much.

“I just- I can't watch him pretend to want me. To pretend I don't look like _this._ I don't want to watch him go to touch me and then yank back like I'll burn him. Please, John. Please keep him away.” John shook his head but sighed.

“What am I going to tell him? That his boyfriend thinks the only thing about himself that's attractive is his looks? You know what he'll think of that- what any of the people who love you think.” His words were sharp. Cutting. But he couldn't really feel it at the moment. He needed to protect himself – and Mike – from what's happened. 

“Tell him I have amnesia. Or that the doctor won't let anyone in for...some reason. Just. Please, John. I can't let him look at what I've become.” Even though it was clear John didn't want to, Dolph knew he would. Because he was serious, and he was begging. Two things he normally never was and never did. 

With a single nod, John disappeared

The doctor and the nurses checked him over often, testing his memory and if he was healing correctly, but he was numb to it all now. There wasn't anything left for him now that he was a monster. He was going to live his life curled up in a ball. Alone. Unloved. Hideous. An eyesore on steroids. Probably better off dead than stuck in this damn body. Ruined by a stupid accident.

Thursday morning two days before his release, John came through the door. Waving and smiling. It was still difficult, letting anyone but strangers in white coats look at him, but he couldn't find the words to make John stay away. He tried, of course, but the begging wouldn't work this time, John determined to be the line connecting him to Mike. 

“I've got a little surprise for you!” Fear shot through him – afraid that John decided to go against his wishes and bring Mike around anyway – only to subside when it was his parents who walked through the door. Instantly his mother's eyes filled with tears, her hands coming to her mouth, while his father held her close. Looking close to tears himself. John excused himself quietly, leaving them alone.

“Mom. Dad. What- Why are you guys here? You should be in Ohio. I thought we agreed-” His mother cut him off with a look, taking his hand delicately in hers – the one burned and useless – and brought it to her cheek. Watching him with tears running down her cheeks.

“We're your parents, boy. Of course, we're here. You nearly died, after all.” His father's words made him duck his head, the man coming around to kiss him on the head. Hugging him into his warmth for a minute. Then he offered to go get something to eat, his mother spending a few quiet minutes fixing his hair and humming. A song she sang to them as kids when they were sick or laid up in bed with an injury. Untangling the knots while he moped.

He loved his parents, but he would prefer if fewer people saw him right now. When his feelings about himself were scarcely positive enough for him to care about being around at all.

It felt like forever that they sat like that, and then she kissed his head and sat back. Giving him her famous _look._

“Now, are you going to tell your mother why you're refusing to let that wonderful man of yours see you? He's been going out of his mind with worry over you. And I heard John telling him this story about how they won't let anyone come see you because of amnesia?” This wasn't just a visit. It was an ambush, probably thought up by both John and his mother. Since John wasn't able to get through to him, his mother was going to try her hand. But he was stubbornly refusing.

He was afraid, okay? Pulling the blanket over himself better, he dropped his gaze. 

“Mom, look at me! Look at what's happened to me! I can't- If he gets a look at me, he'll be just as disgusted as I am and he won't want me anymore. It's better if he lets me fade into an ugly memory. Find someone new who looks like a normal human being.” Looks weren't everything – he knew that – but he was beyond looking ugly or unattractive. He was grotesque. Terrifying. 

Someone kids would point at and mothers would drag them away from.

Plus, the way Mike went on about him. How he praised his body, always going on and on about how much he loved his face, his lips, his hair...

And now it was all gone.

“Honey, don't you think you're making a few assumptions? I mean, shouldn't you give him a chance?” It was a nice sentiment – a good story to tell kids when they're learning about life and love – but it wasn't realistic. As much as he wanted to believe in the power of love, he just couldn't see how it would be okay this time.

“What's the point? I mean, you have to love me no matter what I look like because you're my mom. But he's different. Why stick around for a broken model when you can go find someone who won't have baggage to carry now? Who doesn't have red skin that looks like plastic and scars all over?” She finally stopped tugging at his hair, his scalp tingling, and leveled him with a look.

“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. You listen here, young man. I have seen the way you two are and I know for a fact that man adores _everything_ about you. When I was sitting with him these past few weeks, he wasn't crying over your pretty face or missing your perfect abs. I know it's hard, looking at yourself and seeing only the bad things, but take it from someone who's been married for a million years. He doesn't care about that stuff. He just wants to see you.” When he shook his head, holding onto his stubborn shame (and what was left of his pride), she sighed.

“Okay, let me ask you this. If he was in your place-” Instantly that thought was rejected. If Mike was ever in this position...he wasn't sure what he would do. “Let me finish. If he was in your place, and his looks were taken away from him. If he sat here like you are, feeling ugly and like no one in the world could possibly love him, would you be okay with being kept away? Not being allowed to stand here with him and show him just how wrong he is.”

“Honey, that's what he wants.” He wanted to tell her how he would be fine with it, but it would be a lie. Because of course he would want to stand by Mike's side, and his feelings would be hurt if he found out Mike wanted to keep him away. More than that, he would feel betrayed. Like Mike didn't know him at all if he thought all Dolph cared about was his looks. If that would even be on his mind when someone he's in love with was nearly taken from him.

Damn it. 

“Why are you so right?” She touched his cheek, not flinching or looking anything other than warm and loving. 

“Because I'm a mother and it's my job to guide you. Now, give that boy a call and let him know he can see you. Tonight.” She kissed him on the head, his dad returning with eyebrows raised and food in hand. Definitely a setup, but he didn't mind because it was with love. And he really needed it.

His stomach was doing flips as he waited in the bed, fingers tearing at the stiff blanket and teeth worrying his lip. He got up three different times to check his hair and stare at himself in the mirror. Trying to see past the burns and scars to who he was beneath. When all he could think about was how this was a mistake, he stopped trying. That was an hour ago, and now he was waiting for Mike to show up. 

Any minute and that door would open. He would see the truth and be forced to live with whatever he saw in the handsome face he loved so much.

John offered to sit with him while he waited, promising to leave the second Mike arrived so they could talk, but he just told him to go home. Sleep. Eat something other than disgusting food. Stop lurking around the hospital before he was mistaken for a nurse. John wished him luck and took off, leaving him alone with his thoughts. His fears. And green jello he refused to touch.

When he called Mike the day his parents came to visit, the man cried nonstop on the phone. Like, the second it picked up he was sobbing. Dolph could barely understand anything he was saying, but it didn't matter. Hearing his voice was all he needed. The first smile on his face in weeks, according to the nurse who stopped by as he ended the call. And for the first time since he saw what happened to him, he was happy. But now he was back to being afraid

What if Mike didn't want to touch him? What if he stared at what Dolph's become and refused to come any closer than the bathroom door? What if he ran out of the room and never looked back?

A knock at the door made him jump, and then he was hurrying to sit up and try to look as presentable as one could in a hospital. The door slowly opened, his breath catching in his throat and anxiety clawing away at him. Mike peeked around, scanning the room quickly before rushing inside and practically throwing himself at Dolph. Holding him tight and aggravating the broken ribs. The burned skin still healing. Crying into his neck just as he did on the phone. Sobbing, really. Shaking and trembling as fingers gripped the thin gown, holding him for a long time. 

Hours it seemed. And when he finally pulled back, Dolph turned away. Refusing to meet his eyes. He couldn't bear to see the horror in them. The disgust.

“Hey. Hey, please look at me. Come on. I need you.” Fingers skimmed across his chin, cupping his jaw and convincing him to turn his head. To finally see the truth – once and for all – in the eyes he once saw forever and a day in. 

What would he see now?

“Much better. You don't know how much I have missed you. They called me- Sorry that I'm such a mess.” He sniffled, tears falling faster and harder than even his mother's. Dolph, in somewhat of a daze, reached up and slowly wiped a few tears away, his heart tripping over the smile he got in return. “Anyway, the hospital called me and said you were in surgery. That they weren't sure if you were even going to make it. And I tried so hard to be here. Believe me. I wanted to be by your side every second, but my boss is such an asshole and wouldn't give me the days off. Not even the morning after the accident.”

Touching Mike, looking into those sparkling eyes (a bit red, at the moment, but still as beautiful as they always were), and hearing his voice again. It all made him feel so stupid. How could he ever think this man – the one who loved him at his best and his worst – would be someone he could ever live without? How could he ever begin to think he would run off with some other man and leave him all alone? The second he was allowed in Dolph's room, his hands were on him, his eyes bright with love and tears. Unbothered by what he looked like. Not caring to check his injuries or hesitating in the slightest.

Because he missed _him._ Wanted him. Loved him.

“And then John said they were testing you for amnesia and that I should stay away so you weren't overwhelmed by too many people. And all I could think was _'What if he's forgotten me?' 'What if he doesn't remember us?'_ I needed you so badly – needed to hold you and see that you're alive and well after nearly losing you – but I stayed away so you could heal. And now, finally, I'm here.” His hands held his face delicately, eyes skimming over him while tears escaped the oceans trapped in irises. And then he pressed a long kiss into his mouth, desperate and hungry. Easing into something tender, noses sliding together. 

No hesitation. No shock. Nothing but love.

“When are you coming home? _Please,_ say soon. I don't know how much longer I can go on without you.” Dolph soaked in all the love and adoration, touching Mike with his left hand and watching his eyes close. Like this was all he ever wanted in life. And now he felt like an asshole for keeping him away. For torturing him.

“Michael.” Somehow the man managed to slide closer, bathing Dolph in his warmth. Melting him inside and out.

“Hmm?” 

“I- I have a confession.” He felt when Mike tensed, and then a hand was coming up to press into the hand cupping his face. The only part of him not touched by the flames.

“Okay.”

“I told John to- I made him lie to you. I'm the one who kept you away. I don't have any amnesia. You and your stupid TV shows was one of my first thoughts when I woke up here.” Silence, then Mike's eyes opened. Confused as he looked him over.

“Why? Why would you want-” He couldn't take it, turning away from those eyes. Ashamed of himself. 

“Because I didn't want you to see me like this. If I couldn't stand to look at myself for a second, I figured you wouldn't either. The way you talk about my looks...I panicked. And I know. I know how horribly wrong I have been to ever doubt you for a second, and I certainly don't deserve forgiveness or you. But just know that I'm so, _so_ sorry. For not letting you see me sooner. For thinking you were the kind of guy who would leave just because I don't look like I did before. Because I'm-” Mike narrowed his eyes now, cutting him off with a fierce shake of his head.

“Don't. Don't you dare finish that sentence. You're not ugly. Stop it.” When he finally mustered up the courage to meet Mike's anger, he was pulled into a hard kiss. One that made lightning shoot up his spine and fingers curl into the thin shirt across thick broad shoulders.

“I could never - _ever_ \- want anyone the way I want you. In every single way you could want a person is how I want you. All the time. If I somehow made you think that it was ever a possibility for me to love someone else the I need to apologize right now. Because it's not true.” Now he felt even more foolish than before. He knew all that, could see it in his eyes right now. 

“It sometimes overwhelms me just how much I love you. Like, I look at you. Or a picture of you. Or even just a thought of you crosses my mind and this, this _feeling_ comes over me. I can't explain it, but let's get one thing about this straight; there is no one in the entire world – the universe beyond – for me. And whether you look like a fucking GQ model or a wrinkled old prune. If you're missing a leg, an arm, or even an eye...” Dolph finally laughed, and he could see the instant relief on Mike's as he smiled. 

“There is absolutely no possible way to make me not love you. To make me any less attracted to you. Sorry, babe. You're stuck with me. Hopefully for a long time.” Tears prickled in his eyes, and he tried to blink them back.

“If you choose now to propose, I'm going to put you in here as a patient.” Mike kissed his nose, giggling softly.

“In due time. I'm certainly not going anywhere. Any time soon.” How was he so damn lucky?

“You're turning into a sap, Mizanin.” There was no offense taken, Mike beaming proudly.

“Only for you, Ziggles.” Dolph rolled his eyes, absolutely basking in the man's attention. 

“You know I hate that name.” They laughed for a moment, Mike's face falling serious and catching him off-guard.

“Hey, just so you know. You never have to worry about me running off with someone else who might look better or younger than you. I mean, in your eyes of course. Because there's no one sexier than you.” It might not be able to be seen on his face anymore, but he was blushing fiercely. “I mean, yes. I was obsessed with your beautiful tanned skin. The rippling muscle under your t-shirts and your luxurious blonde hair. But babe, it goes way deeper than that.”

“I love the way your eyes crinkle when you tell a joke and wait for everyone to laugh. Your voice just- it _does_ things to me. The way you are with the kids our friends have. How you solve crossword puzzles with ink smudges on your lip from biting the pens. I love how you complain about illogical things in kid's shows and refuse to watch the ending of sad animal movies.” While he appreciated the words, he didn't need to hear them because he could _see_ it – all that love – glowing in his eyes.

“I'm so sorry I ever thought you wouldn't want to see me. I can't begin to find the words to apologize. How to make up for that.” The smile Mike wore twisted into something coy. Bubbly energy and static electricity mingling inside him. 

“I don't know about you, but I can think of a few places we can start. With the doc's permission, of course.” And for the first time in what felt like ages, he threw his head back a laughed.

A moment later coughing and wheezing, worrying Mike. Throwing him into mother hen mode.

They spent the rest of the time Dolph was stuck in the hospital watching TV. Kissing only every few minutes, one of them whining that they weren't getting enough attention and the other hurrying to fix it. Smiling like a couple of idiots and holding hands like they were in high school. Mike showed him some things on Instagram and pictures he took around the house (and some selfies, which made him snort) while Dolph was in a coma. They even played a crossword, Dolph guessing ridiculous answers with the correct amount of letters while Mike griped ( _”Castrate, Dolph? Really? What does that have to do with fruit!”_ ) about him not taking it seriously because he was seriously competitive. Even with himself.

They shared dinner and watched MASH on the little hospital monitor, Mike wrinkling his nose at the food and whispering in his ear how he couldn't wait for Dolph to come home so they could have real and delicious food again. Because apparently Mike's been living off take out for weeks. Shivers down his spine when Mike slid his nose along a particularly sensitive part of his neck, accidentally flicking jello across the room and making them both burst out laughing. 

The nurses never came to kick Mike out, and as the man curled against him – holding tight and breathing deeply like he was trying to inhale him – one of the night nurses offered a wink as she checked him over and cast a soft look at where Mike was sleeping. She turned off the light at his request and then he was sliding down to get more comfortable. Mike adjusting in his sleep and pressing lips to his neck. 

Laying there, holding the man close to him, he mentally shook himself for being a damned fool. He never should have let his insecurity cloud his judgment like that, because it was obvious in every look, every touch, and every _laugh_ they shared that Mike was one-hundred percent. Head-over-heels. Cuckoo. Crazy about him. And the feeling was most definitely returned. 

It would take time to get used to how he looked – how he could feel in some places, over-sensitive in others, and in many places he couldn't feel at all – but with Mike always there with him, he felt there wasn't a single thing he couldn't do.

And _that_ was the power of true love.

***

_It's strong and it's sudden and it's cruel sometimes_

_But it might just save your life..._

_That's the power of love_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Xx


End file.
